The Black Horse - a welcome break along the Pilgrim's Way

The last time I set foot inside the Black Horse at Thurnham, was 35 years ago, when I lived in Maidstone. I was living with the previous Mrs Bailey at the time and with us both being fond of cosy country pubs, it was the sort of place for an equally cosy drink. With the Black Horse just a short, three-mile cycle ride away from the centre of the county town, it was easy to get to, and whilst the outward journey was largely uphill, the return one was a doddle.

According to Wikipedia, Thurnham is a village and civil parish with a population of 1,205 inhabitants, but it is quite a scattered village and I really am only familiar with the pub. During the first half of the 1980’s, when I was a frequent visitor, the Black Horse was a Whitbread pub and as such sold Fremlin’s Bitter, brewed in Faversham, alongside the stronger and more satisfying Tusker.

The latter was introduced as a stablemate to the former when, in an attempt to create a more local image,  Whitbread brought back the Fremlin’s name. Unfortuantely, Tusker (named after Fremlin’s much-loved elephant trade-mark), only stuck around for a few years before being discontinued. At the time though, the Black Horse kept a good pint of  both these locally brewed beers and was well worth cycling out to.

Fast forward 35 years when I was looking for somewhere to spend the night, that was close to the North Down’s Way. The Black Horse Inn jumped out at me, especially as it is situated less than a quarter of a mile from the NDW, and whilst it was slightly over half-way along the stretch I planned to walk, it still seemed ideal. Accommodation, in the form of several low-level, Kentish barn style buildings, has been constructed close to the original 18^th Century pub, so I made my booking, and eagerly waited for the day of my walk to arrive.

As written elsewhere, day one of my hike, saw me walking from Charing railway station; a distance of 13 miles. The initial two thirds of the walk was along the track known as the Pilgrims Way, and being at the foot of the North Downs ridge, was largely flat and firm underfoot. It was only after I’d left the village of Hollingbourne, where I’d stopped off at the local pub, for a well-earned pint of Harvey’s, that the ascent and the hard work really began.

In terms of spectacular views, the climb up onto the top of the escarpment was worth the effort, but there were several sections where I seemed to lose the trail completely. It wasn’t until I met a couple, out walking with their dog, that I discovered I was still on the right track – but not for much longer.

After telling the pair I was heading for the Black Horse, I was informed there was an easy way and a hard one.  The easy route was to follow the track I was currently on, down to the bottom, where there was a lane running at 90 degrees, in an east-west direction. By continuing west, along the lane, I would reach my destination, and bed for the night, in half an hour. The hard way was to climb back up onto the ridge, via the aptly named "Cat’s Mount" and then follow the steeply undulating official route of the NDW. It was described as hard work, and it would take at least an hour to reach the pub.

The choice was a no-brainer, as I was already tiring by this stage, and the thought of more climbing did not appeal at all. So, whilst some might view this as cheating, my response is I am not a “completist,” and my choice of the “easy route” was merely a continuance of the Pilgrims Way I’d been walking on for much of the day.

I was sore of foot, weary of limb and in need of a rest when I arrived at the Black Horse and made my way to Reception, which is situated in a building at the rear of the pub. I checked in and picked up the key to my room, which was in one of the aforementioned, barn-style buildings further down the hill. All rooms are named after wildflowers, with each group of buildings overlooking a grass courtyard area. It all seemed well organised, so after removing my muddy boots outside, and leaving then on the mat, I entered my comfortable and well-appointed room. 

First on the agenda was a cuppa tea, followed by a much-needed shower. Afterwards a quick phone call to advise Mrs PBT’s that I’d arrived in one piece and hadn’t fallen down a ravine, or been trampled by a herd of cows, despite walking through a field bearing a “Beware of the Bull” sign – yes, really, as I thought that sort of thing was illegal on a public right of way!

I then headed up to the pub, where I’d pre-booked a table for 7.30pm. I waited at the entrance, as instructed, but as I was staying at the hotel, there was no need for me to divulge further track and trace details. I was led to an area to the right and towards the rear of the pub, only managing a quick glimpse of the bar and the pump-clips as we passed through.

The interior is very old world, which is kind of how I remembered it after three and a half decades, but it was quite dimly lit. There are a number of alcove areas which were probably once separate rooms, but with the dividing walls now removed, and the supporting beams still in place, the pub has a nice, cosy and quite intimate feel to it. The design allowed a reasonable number of customers to be seated, without encroaching on each other's space.

So which beer should I drink? I’d noticed a Kent Brewery beer, as I was whisked past the bar, and also a Best Bitter of some description.  I think Doom Bar might also have been available, but we’re talking proper beer here. To take the guess work out of choosing, I asked the pleasant waitress which beers were available. I should perhaps have re-phrased that question, as which “ales” were on, but after running through the list, I opted for Old Dairy Blue Top, which is always a welcome sight in any Kentish pub.

Food-wise, I chose the steak, ale and mushroom suet pudding, with accompanying mash and seasonal veg. A high calorific option I grant you, but I felt in need of something substantial after my 13-mile hike! The food was first class, but I wasn’t quite so sure about the beer; it certainly didn’t taste like what I remember as Blue Top. When a male member of the waiting staff arrived to fetch me another beer, I enquired what else was available besides Old Dairy?

“Old Dairy isn’t available tonight sir,” was the reply. “We have Doom Bar, Longman Best, Wantsum Fortitude, plus a seasonal from Kent Brewery.” It dawned on me that I’d had the Longman – with a name to hang the taste on, this was a beer I recognised, but for my second, and final pint, I opted for the Wantsum.

It turned out as a good choice, darkish in colour, well balanced and eminently drinkable, but with my belly full, and my body weary, I was more than ready for my bed.  I paid my tab, and then hobbled slowly down the hill to my waiting room. After a quick coffee I slid into bed, turned off the light and drifted off into a deep, lengthy and much-needed sleep.

I was back inside the pub, the following morning, for a hearty full English breakfast, washed down with plenty of tea. I had a chat with the landlady before leaving, who was fine with me taking a few photos of the bar. After completing my packing, I departed just after hall nine, and headed up the hill to re-join the NDW for the second day of walking.  

My stay confirmed the resilience of the English pub, in spite of the raft of ever-changing restrictions being foisted on it by a government that doesn't know which was to turn next. More importantly, and from a personal point of view, it provided a most welcome and much needed break. Please don't call it a "circuit breaker," as I suspect we will all be sick of that phrase before long, but continuing the electrical analogy,  the walk and overnight stay was sufficient to re-charge my batteries, ready to face  the world again.